Just a small token
by Spikesterholic
Summary: Set between Showtime and Potential. Involves Christmas, but not heavily.


Many thanks to Wolffan200 for being my Beta. You rock!

I hope you all enjoy :)

* * *

Spike couldn't deny that he was in a good mood. For the first time since coming back from Africa, he felt like a portion of the weight on his heavy heart had been lifted. He was still feeling the full force of his newly installed soul, but no one could miss the slight spring in his step that morning. Maybe it was because the Potentials were currently away from the house all day, getting their fill of Sunnydale's mall. Maybe it was because he was almost completely healed from the First's recent bout of torture. Heck, maybe it was because it was Christmas. But Spike knew what the real reason was. She had come for him. She believed in him. Yes. Spike was feeling wonderful. Which is why there was a cream envelope, nesting in his back pocket. He wasn't one for festivities. By all laws of nature, he should despise them, this one most of all. But he had an urge to do this and Spike was always the kind of person to follow his heart rather than his head.

Making sure he could hear no other occupant in the house, other than the woman in charge, he made his way down the stairs, swinging from the bottom step (with help from the banister) and jumped to the floor of the hallway, cutting Buffy off in her path.

She jumped slightly, half expecting him to crash into her, but he stood upright, a joyful smile stretched across his face. She couldn't help but think how adorable he looked.

"My, someone's awfully chipper and bouncy." She gave him an amused look. "Feeling better?"

"More than you can imagine, pet."

He was looking at her with those soft, loving eyes that made her feel whole. He looked so full of life. She couldn't help but feel for him.

"Maybe it's all this seasonal spirit flowing around. Grating on my soft side."

"Could be. Say, aren't you supposed to be all anti-Santa?" she teased.

"By rights. But I think you're having a bigger influence on me than my nature."

He smiled shyly. She looked down, blushing.

_Now or never._

"Speaking of the holidays," he said, reaching into his back pocket.

She looked up from the ground to his hands, which were currently holding a cream envelope.

"For you," he said, hesitantly holding it out to her.

Taking the envelope, she was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She couldn't look up at him. She was worried about what she would see; what it would do to her.

"Oh. I-"

"It's not – I mean- it's just a thank you is all," he reassured her, swiftly.

"Small token of my appreciation for saving me."

"Thank you," she said, finally looking him in the eye and offering him a look of gratitude.

He reached out and placed the pad of his thumb to her cheek, his index finger hooking under her chin, lightly.

"No Buffy. Thank _you_."

And then he was gone. She stood there for a few seconds, the sound of the basement door opening and closing, indicating where he had retreated.

Looking down at the card, she was hesitant to open it. What was written inside? Did she want to know? Could it be another declaration of love? Did she give him signals? Did she want to give him signals? Maybe it wasn't romantic at all. _'Thanks a bunch, buddy. Go team!'_ What made him want to give her a Christmas card in the first place? Maybe it's from the First? No. No more crazy conclusions.

Gripping the card, she marched to the living room. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she rested her elbows on her knees, holding the envelope level with her face.

Pausing for a moment, she rolled her eyes at her childishness and opened the envelope. Pulling the card out of its sleeve, she observed the front. It was a simple cartoon illustration of a snowman, big coal smile on its face, perched on a bed of snow with a silhouette of flying reindeer and a sleigh in the moon, Merry Christmas written across the top in red loopy writing.

Opening the card, she was greeted with Spike's sloppy handwriting. Calligraphy was obviously not one of Spike's Victorian traits.

_Buffy,_

_Sorry about the card, only one I could get my mitts on at short notice._

_I suppose it's fitting; snowmen being cold an all._

_I wanted to say thank you for what you have done for me._

_I never could have gotten to where I am now without you._

_I know I've made some terrible choices in the past, but I promise you,_

_My future involves making you proud; because you believe in me._

_I am forever in your debt. And I'm no welsher._

_Try and have a good Christmas, luv._

_Spike_

She let the words sink in, filling her heart with warmth and making it sing. She traced the words with her fingers, something so simple having so much effect on her.

The loud bang of the front door being forced open, followed by the irritating hum of many people talking at once, ripped her from her thoughts.

"We're back!"

Panicking, she closed the card, picked up the envelope and looked around her. Seeing nowhere to hide it, she slid the items down the side of the couch where she was sitting, placing it out of view before anyone noticed what she was doing; making a mental note to retrieve it later on.

"I've got bagels, hope you're hun- you okay Buffy?"

Xander, ever the observer, noticed the glassy eyes of the slayer.

"Yeah! I'm all-good. Just a little dust, making me all sneezy, say! Where are those bagels?" she covered.

Potentials soon filled the living room, tearing through purchased goods and chatting non-stop, Christmas spirit, flowing through the air.

* * *

All was quiet once again. The mini-slayers were currently occupying the basement, practicing their half-assed knife throws and pitiful punches. The other Scoobies were elsewhere. Spike didn't care where, all he cared was that he had beer, he had the television all to himself and he was still in a good mood.

Walking into the living room, he placed his beer on the coffee table and retrieved the remote control from on top of the fireplace. He stopped to look at the two cards housed there. Neither one was his. He suspected the slayer took it to her room. She was private like that. No. One was from that Kennedy bird to Willow, the other was one of those automated ones from the DMP. They obviously still had Buffy's name in their systems. Shrugging, he clicked the television on, making his way back to the couch, remote in hand; he nabbed a small bowl of Chex mix that had been left. _Waste not…_

Spike dropped into the cushions of the couch with a little too much enthusiasm, causing some of the mix to jump from the bowl and spill out over his lap and couch.

"Balls" He cursed to himself. Placing the bowl and remote onto the table beside his beer, he picked the fallen pieces up, chucking them into the bowl as he did.

Feeling the side of the couch for any pieces hiding, Spike's fingers came into contact with paper.

Confused, he pulled it out, his face falling when he recognized what he had found. His card. Crumpled and stuffed down the side of the couch. Cast Iron dropped to the pit of Spike's stomach, crushing his soul and filling him with coldness. This card wasn't wanted. He wasn't wanted. He was needed, but he wasn't wanted.

_I've been such a fool._

For a millisecond, Spike wondered if he too, could be scrunched up and stuffed down the side of the couch. She was still ashamed of him. He couldn't blame her. Just like their poor excuse of a relationship, she had stuffed any emotion between them where no one could find it. She'd never accept him. He'd hurt her too badly.

_I should never have come back._

"Hey, watcha got there?" Willow's friendly voice filled his ears.

He looked up to see Willow and Buffy herself, enter the living room. He saw her freeze.

"Nothing. One of those silly girl's downstairs getting doe eyed," he covered.

He looked down again at the card and casually ripped it in half. Buffy couldn't move. The look on his face was telling her, he'd come to the wrong conclusion about why his card was hidden. Yet she couldn't find the motor skills to speak up. She instead, watched his heart shatter in his eyes and his spirit, deflate and seep from his body.

"Don't do that! You'll break her poor heart!" Willow gasped in sympathy.

He got up from the couch, feeling the urge to get out.

"Demon. Not meant to be loved. Can't be giving them ideas," he offered, with a sad smile on his face.

"I'm gonna do a quick sweep."

He nodded a goodbye to both of them, tossing the card into a wastepaper bin on his way out.

"Poor girl. I wonder who it was?" Willow pouted.

Buffy finally gave her brain a swift kick.

"Spike!" she called, ignoring Willow and following the path of the vampire.

Spike exited the Summers' home, pausing on the back porch to fish a cigarette out of his pockets.

"Stupid git." he mumbled to himself.

Coming up with an empty packet, he threw it with frustration into one of the bushes, ran his hand through his hair and made his way down the steps, ready to get completely pissed.

"Spike, wait," Buffy called from behind him, standing on the steps where he once was. He turned to her.

"Look. About the card-"

"It's all right. I get it. Shouldn't have given-"

"I didn't want anyone to see it," she blurted out, instantly regretting her words.

Spike snorted.

"Yeah, figured that out all by myself, pet."

"That came out _all_ wrong."

"Look, it doesn't matter. Forget about it, yeah?"

"But I-s"

"Don't." Spike's harsh tone cut her off, stopping her rambling.

He couldn't take it. He needed to leave now; spend the night drowning in his thoughts and giving good old Peaches a run for his money in the brooding department. He just needed to get away from her. Right now.

Without another word, he turned and left. This time, Buffy didn't stop him.

She turned and re-entered the house, rubbing her temples. She'd messed up big time. And she had no clue how to fix it. All she knew was she'd hurt Spike, and this time, she really hadn't meant to. Walking back into the living room, she saw Willow, sitting in the seat, recently vacated by the vampire, with the ripped card in her hands, a sorrowful look on her face. She looked up at Buffy.

"It's for you."

"I know." Buffy sighed. Her shoulders sagged. Taking a seat opposite Willow, she began to explain.

"He gave it to me this morning. God, he looked so happy."

"So why did he rip it up?" Willow was confused.

"When I opened it, I had only just read it and Xander and the Potentials came rushing in at once and I didn't know what to do!"

Willow gave her a look, beckoning her to continue.

"So I stuffed it down the side of the couch." She cringed at her own words.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want them to see it." She tried to defend herself.

Willow held her look, still not understanding why Buffy would hide a card.

"I didn't think they'd understand. Xander especially. Spike giving me a Christmas card? Willow, I don't even think I understand."

She was finally opening up. Talking about her feelings. She could do this.

"All I know is, I've hurt him and I really didn't mean to."

"So what are you going to do?"

_That_, thought Buffy, _was the million dollar question._

* * *

It was well past 2A.M when Spike dragged himself through the door of 1630 Revello Drive. He was neither drunk nor violently satisfied. He really wished he could just move back to his crypt, but seeing as the First was still using him as its personal slave, he had to stay within the cavalry's watchful eye.

Listening and finding a house full of steady, sleeping heartbeats, he breathed a sigh of relief. He could go straight to his cellar without being bothered by anyone living.

The glow of the television caught his eye. Seeing no one watching it, he muttered as he went to turn it off.

"None of these little blighter's have got any sodding respect."

As he flicked the box off, his eyes caught sight of something else. Sitting proudly on the middle of the fireplace, clumsily wrapped around the middle in scotch tape, was his card. To say Spike was confused was an understatement.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, he dismissed it, making his way to the basement for a well needed sleep.

Once he hit the bottom step, the smell of Buffy was a hint stronger than it should have been. It was then that he noticed a pink object sitting upon his pillow.

Spike sat on his bed and picked up the soft teddy; Mr Gordo. He noticed a small piece of paper lay idly next to where the pig was perched.

Picking it up, he read the note, his confusion melting away.

_This is Mr Gordo. Look after him._

_He's just a small token of my appreciation._

_I'm proud of you,_

_Buffy x_

He couldn't help the slow smile grow on his lips. Laying back on his bed, he held the pig up, twirling it between his hands and bringing it down to his face to inhale its scent. He knew who Mr. Gordo was. Buffy would kill anyone who mistreated her favourite sleeping companion. And now, she was giving it to him. He realized that it must have meant a lot to give him something that held such value of hers.

_Just a small token of what's to come, maybe?_

Spike knew he was probably raising his hopes, opening himself up to be crushed once again. But this time he didn't care. He had a feeling he'd be all right this time. Anyways. Spike was always the kind of person to follow his heart rather than his head.


End file.
